Solemn Morpheus
by Moony Whore
Summary: A divination project leaves Harry dreaming about Draco Malfoy. The question is, is the dream foretelling the future or is it merely revealing Harry's innermost desire. Harry/Draco


Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; the good news is that the plot does belong to me.

Warning: Male/Male pairing(s).

A big thanks to my friends (Blaise and Tricia especially) who listened to took the time to read and go over the story whenever I asked them too.

Solemn Morpheus

                        Some men see things as they are and ask why.

                                Others dream things that never were and ask why not.

                                                --George Bernard Shaw

Harry Potter, boy who lived, was prepared to die…well, maybe death was a bit of an over exaggeration. He was, after all, only sitting in the hot, stuffy North tower that was the Divination classroom, getting ready for another eventful hour filled with predictions of his future demise. 

"Good afternoon, class," came the forced mystical voice of Professor Trelawney as she floated into the room, "Today I have foreseen myself putting aside our lesson on the pendulum for a more…interesting assignment."

Harry rolled his eyes as he heard squeals of excitement and hushed whispers come from Lavender and Parvati's table.

"Think of it this way, mate," whispered Ron, "Maybe you won't be dying today."

"Instead we will be studying dreams," said Professor Trelawney as she took a seat at her winged armchair, "And thanks to Professor Snape we will be using the rare Somnium Potion."

"Ten galleons says the whole lot is poisoned," muttered Ron.

"No bet," muttered Harry, "You're probably right."       

"The Somnium Potion was created by Hugh Hallows who was attempting to create a potion that would allow one to see into the future without the use of a crystal ball and other such things. He failed and instead the potion revealed the drinkers greatest fears, desires, or wishes through dreams," said Professor Trelawney, her voice sounding like she was telling a ghost story.

"That isn't very useful," said Ron aloud, "Doesn't everybody already know all that?"

"No, Mr. Weasley, it does not show the things you know of. It shows the things that lay deep within your heart, far beneath your sub-conscious. It shows you things you never knew you even thought about," said Professor Trelawney, "The secrets you keep from yourself."

"She's completely mental," said Ron quietly to Harry despite the glare he was receiving from Trelawney.

"However, in some rare cases it is believed that the potion also tells the future. No one can be truly sure if it does or doesn't though. Most witches and wizards argue that it doesn't tell the future but motivates the drinker to make the dreams become reality while others argue if that was true than more dreams would come true. They also like to point out that many have set out to make their dreams come true and have failed miserably so not always was the future predicted." 

"What do you believe, Professor Trelawney?" asked Lavender.

"I believe that what is meant to be is meant to be," said Professor Trelawney, mistily.

"In other words, she doesn't know," said Ron, smirking, "Nice way to avoid answering a question, eh Harry?"

Harry laughed softly and nodded as he finished scribbling down his notes. He glanced over at Lavender and Parvati; shaking his head when he saw the glares they were shooting him and Ron.

"I'll be right back," said Professor Trelawney as she stood up and swooped out of the room.

She returned carrying a bronze tray upon which rested glass vials containing a silvery colored liquid.  She placed them on her desk and faced the room, smiling her mystical smile.

"I want each of you to come up slowly and pick out the vial that calls to you," said Trelawney, "It is important to pick carefully, make sure that the vial is meant for you."

Both Harry and Ron rolled their eyes as they stood up and then walked over to the desk the vials rested on. Ron quickly grabbed one and then smirked at Lavender and Parvati whom were glaring reproachfully at him. Harry stared at the vials for a moment before grabbing one. He sat back down beside Ron and stared at the potion. The color reminded him of Draco's eyes, he thought randomly before turning his attention to what he would possibly dream about.

_"I hope it isn't my parents…or Voldemort," thought Harry, "I don't think I could stand that."_

"You are all required to write a paper on what your dream is about," said Professor Trelawney, after Lavender and Parvati had _finally_ finished picking out their potion bottle, "You're paper is due in three days. You are all dismissed."

She then smirked, her eyes misting over slightly as she looked at the students who had begun packing. He gaze landed on Harry, her voice harsher than it usual was. It sort of reminded Harry of her prediction during his third year, "Sweet dreams, class."

_-_-_-_-_

Harry wearily walked up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, not only did his arms and legs feel like they were going to fall off from exhaustion but he was also covered from head to toe in cold mud. Quidditch practice had run late, Ron having decided that they need more practice flying in the rain.  

_"He's going to be worse than Oliver was," _thought Harry, as he walked up to his trunk and pulled out a pair of pajama pants.

He trudged into the bathroom, dropped his pajama pants on a nearby bench, and turned on the shower. Harry then slowly took off his mud and rain drenched clothing, wincing as his sore muscles complained at the movement. He stepped into the shower, smiling as the warm water fell across his bare skin, washing away the coldness, mud, and easing his aches and pains. He absent-mindedly picked up the shampoo bottle, poured some shampoo into his hand, and lathered it into his hair. He scratched at his scalp, releasing any mud that had become trapped in his unruly black hair and then rinsed the soap out. He lifted his face up towards the showerhead, letting the pleasantly hot water splash across his face as he reached for a wash cloth. He quickly washed his body, scrubbing off any muck that lingered. Sighing, Harry turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower. He quickly dried off and got into his pajamas. He walked into his room and shook his head, chuckling softly at the sight that greeted him—a still very wet and muddy Ron, sprawled across his bed and fast asleep. Yawning, Harry sat down on the edge of his own bed and glanced at the vial of the silvery Somnium Potion that rested on his nightstand. The light of the pale moon rested on the table, making the Somnium Potion glow beautifully, making it look ethereal. He picked up the vial, carefully took out the glass stopper, and downed the contents. The silvery liquid felt so cold it burned as it slide down his throat. Once it hit his stomach a wonderful warm feeling spread through his body, making his whole body tingle with a strangely comforting pins and needles sensation. He climbed beneath the covers of his bed, closed his eyes, and drifted off into sleep. 

_-_-_-_-_

Harry was looking out over at the lake in his home of Godric's Hollow, its surface was sparkling like thousands of tiny crystals as the sun reflected on it. His bare back rested against the soft wood of the willow tree that sat only steps away from the lake shore, his brilliant green eyes flickered slowly over the pages of the book he held in his hands. Harry closed the book and placed it on the ground beside him. He pulled his jean-clad legs up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and then rested his chin on his knees.  He smiled slightly as he heard quiet footfalls heading in his direction but didn't look back.  The footsteps stood beside him and suddenly two pale arms gently hugged him about his middle.

"Hello, Potter."

Harry laughed softly and leaned back so that the back of his head rested on the shoulder of the owner of the voice, "Hey to you too, Draco." 

Smiling warmly, Harry tilted his head to the side so his cheek rested against Draco's, and then took his hand, intertwining their fingers together. Draco planted a soft kiss on Harry's cheek and returned the smile.

"I thought I'd find you out here," said Draco.

"Oh, so you were looking for me?"

"Yes and no," said Draco, "Remus and Sirius were getting worried so I opted to go out to find you. Not that I minded, of course. I'd spend all my life searching for you if it meant we could sit like this together for even a few moments."

"Oh, Draco!" cried Harry humorously, as he clutched his heart and fell backwards, pinning Draco beneath him, "Your beautiful words hath stolen my heart!"

Harry turned himself around so that he lay atop Draco, facing him, and grinned lopsidedly at him. Draco was pouting playfully, his blue-gray eyes dancing with concealed laughter.

"Aw, get off me Harry," cried Draco, stifling a laugh, "You weigh a ton!"

Rolling his eyes, Harry pushed himself off Draco and sat down across from him. He watched as Draco sat up, glaring in good humor at Harry as he brushed the dirt off himself. Harry smiled and leaned forward, placing a soft, chaste kiss on Draco's lips before leaning back and grinning.

"I couldn't help myself, you look so cute when you're angry," explained Harry with a shrug when Draco raised one perfect, golden eyebrow.

"I wasn't angry," said Draco, smirking slightly.

"You weren't?" asked Harry, who immediately crossed his arms across his chest, feigning anger, "Well, I want my kiss back then."

Draco laughed softly and Harry couldn't help but allow himself to grin. He looked so wonderful when he laughed, his eyes lit up looking more like sparkling silver than the cool blue-grey of the sky after a storm and his voice sounded musical, like the sound of waves gently sloshing up to the shore.  

Smiling ever so faintly, Draco wrapped his arms about Harry's waist and kissed him. Harry un-crossed his arms and gently draped them at Draco's sides as he returned it. They held the kiss for a few moments, relishing in the perfection of it, enjoying every moment of being together. Harry slowly broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Draco's, his own green eyes staring adoringly into eyes of blue-gray that looked back with the same love.

"Love you, Drac," said Harry, holding the gaze.

"I love you too, Green-eyes," replied Draco and he moved so he rested in Harry's arms, his head somewhat buried in the nape of Harry's neck. 

Harry hugged Draco tightly but gently, possessively holding onto one of the few remaining life-lines in his life. 

"Who would have thought that you and I would have ended up like this," said Draco, uttering a soft chuckle. 

"We both would have cursed them on the spot for even thinking it," said Harry, the smile evident in his tone of voice.

"Fate is bittersweet," said Draco, nuzzling Harry's cheek with a sigh, "Wonderful…but bittersweet."

"What makes you say that?" asked Harry, trying not to sound hurt.

"Just imagine what it took to get us here…," Draco said as he sat up straight and smiled sadly, "Such losses in order to find happiness…so it is bittersweet, both terrible and magnificent."

"Maybe, it was meant to be no matter what happened," said Harry, "Who ever said that what happened had to do with our being together…maybe our fate of being together didn't affect our fate in school…or during the war. Simply, what is meant to be is meant to be."

"Hm, you make it sound so…beautiful," said Draco with a smile.

"It's just the way I see things," said Harry with a shrug and then added with a soft frown, "It comes from being the Boy Who Lived."

"Why do you say that?" asked Draco.

"Because if I had lived everyday believing that just one small thing I did affected the lives of countless others…I would have gone mad. I...I don't think I would have been able to survive all those years without breaking," said Harry, looking down at the ground.

Draco gently placed his hand beneath Harry's chin and lifted it upwards so that their eyes met and smiled, "You're an incredible person, Harry. Everyone sees it but you."

Harry smiled. It is amazing how he had heard thousands of people speak of how great he was, be accosted by strangers on the street who wanted to thank him for all he had done for them and not believe one word of it but when Draco said it he, for the first time, felt it was true. Maybe it was because out of them all, no one knew him as well as Draco did. None of them knew every inch, every tiny piece of his heart, soul, and mind like Draco and only he judged him as both Harry and the Boy Who Lived since after all he was both--Harry, a Gryffindor who loved Quidditch, had a soft spot for Chocolate Frogs, had grown up with muggles because he had lost his parents, was and still is, horrible at potions but excellent in charms, and had been friends for years with Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger and the Boy Who Lived, a man bearing a scar not only a his forehead but on his soul, someone, who had, despite his title was unable to save that one extra person, a man who had seen more death and darkness in his time than anyone should in five lifetimes and had gone up against the Dark Lord twice and survived.    

"Not as incredible as you, Draco," replied Harry.

"Oh, yes, of course," said Draco with a playfully grin, "Not nearly as incredible as I with my soft, blond tresses, my beautiful grey eyes, and perfect body.  Not to mention my superior intelligence and magical talent."

"Don't forget your great ability at being an insufferable git," added Harry, jokingly.

"Ohhh, you better take that back Harry," said Draco with a wolfish grin, "You wouldn't want to end up sleeping on the couch tonight, would you?"

Harry laughed softly and then, eyes closed, he leaned forward and kissed Draco.  He let his tongue slowly slide over Draco's lips as he slipped his hands beneath his shirt and rested his hands on the lower half of his back, pulling him closer.  And as the kiss deepened, the soft, afternoon air became heavy and a veil seemed to fall upon all of Harry's senses, dulling them to the point where the kiss seemed like it was no longer happening. The warm air surrounded him, empty warmth that was missing the slender arms of the one he loved, and he could feel himself floating farther and farther from Draco…from his dream.

_-_-_-_-_

Harry sat up in bed, his eyes wide and his chest moving in heaving breaths despite the feeling of complete calm that enveloped his mind. His hand moved up to touch his lips and rested there for a moment. It was on that morning that Harry awoke to discover that he was in love with Draco Malfoy.  He was, with all his being, in love with the very person who could not speak to him without a sneer and an insult. Harry buried his face in his hands, an impossible but lovely, wonderful dream. Bittersweet to the very end. 

He climbed out of bed and numbly got dressed, his mind replying each moment of his dream over and over again, each time it was as fresh and real as the moment it had happened. After he was dressed he trudged down to the Great Hall and sat down beside Ron and Hermione, who offered him a wave and a concerned frown at his strange silence. 

"Alright, Harry?" asked Ron.

"I'm fine," replied Harry.

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, his eyes immediately falling on the silvery head of Draco Malfoy. Their eyes met, and Harry's heart stopped for a moment as he looked into the blue-grey pools that had held so much love for him. Draco's lips curled into a sneer and Harry, unable to find the hatred he had once held towards the boy, smiled. Draco blinked, looking shocked for a moment before his eyes hardened and he looked away.  Harry sighed, he was the Boy Who Lived…Harry, the foolish boy who fell in love with dreams. How he wished he could just look back at it all and laugh at it. Find some absurdity in the idea that his dream could even be conceived as possible and go off and write some false report that would satisfy the Divination professor but what he felt was something deep inside him, like a light that sat half hidden in the shadows, burning quietly but with more warmth than all the candles in the world could produce. It was a light that could never go out, not now, not once it had been lit and had been allowed to grow and it couldn't be ignored. He was Harry, the foolish boy that fell in love with dreams…dreams he would not give up for the entire world. Besides, what is meant to be is meant to be and life is as you make it…A dream could easily be real if pursued with as much passion as there was present when it was thought up. 

~Fin~


End file.
